


Haunted

by bowie28



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-29
Updated: 2012-08-29
Packaged: 2017-11-13 03:11:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bowie28/pseuds/bowie28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Guy was haunted. (Post Season 2 finale)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haunted

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Extreme angst, character deaths  
> Disclaimer: Do not own anything but this laptop.  
> Notes: This is my first Robin Hood fic. I normally write slash fics, so this is somewhat new to me. Please leave a comment even if this fic made no sense to you. And oh, I am not a native speaker, and I have no beta for this, so please forgive me for any annoying grammatical errors.

**Haunted**

 

He was staring into the night, and again the emptiness consumed his thoughts, as if possessed by an evil spirit only holy words could drive away. But not cure. Never cure. Sometimes he wished he had had gone mad, for now madness was the only way to make sense of all things. Living was easy. Stopping wasn’t.

She came to him. At least he liked to think she did. Not just at night when he could not make himself sleep, but during the day while the Sheriff ranting about unpleasant things that peasants did, and how he wanted them handled. She would appear over his shoulder, whispering witty words into his ear. He tried not to listen, not to hear, but she would not let him rest until all her wishes were followed. He did not approve the weakness it represented, but deep down he cherished it for it gave him an excuse to be where he was, breathing above ground.

“Do not tempt me, Marian.” He often said to her when she reached out her hand as if to lure him into dark corners of his room and never return.

He wondered whether this was common, visited by ghosts of one’s past. He wondered whether or not Hood had the same pleasure.

“Why, you are special. No one had ever killed me twice,” she replied lightheartedly.

Her words always rang true. Even in an afterlife.

“A punishment of the worst kind, you being here, never leaving,” he muttered into the dryness of night air.

“But that was what you always asked of me.” She leaned against the window before him, blocking the moonlight.

He glared at her.

“Robin doesn’t need me. He never does.”

“And I do?” he blurted.

“I don’t just come here by myself, you know.” She smirked.

He shut his mouth and would not open it again until the next day when the Sheriff sent for him.

She was there when he traveled two countries to see his bastard child and left him and his mother a generous fund. The girl was puzzled but accepted his offer without a fight.

“Felt good, didn’t it?” she asked as they rode back to Nottingham.

“No,” he said to the wind.  

“For a villain, you’re not much of a liar, Guy.”

He hated her, and told her so, but secretly he cherished the liveliness in her voice, even though it only lived in his mind.

Hood had hunted him down from the first day he returned from the Holy Land, but luck seemed to always be on Guy’s side. Sometimes he even made an effort to be where Hood would be so this would be over.

“You can’t have it too easy, you know that,” she poked him.

But nothing about this was easy. He wanted to throw that back in her non-existent perfect face. But that wasn’t really what he wanted to say. Not when he saw that glint in her eyes, the glint that told him there was hope for him yet.

“Don’t you hate me?” finally he asked.

She looked at him as if he had gone insane.

“That would be easier, wouldn’t it?”

He thought about it, and yes, as she challenged him with her eyes, it would.

Sleep somehow stopped being a task. He slept through the night for the first time in over ten years. She was lying by his side when he opened his eyes, watching him.

“You look different when you’re asleep,” she observed, brushing the lock of dark hair from his forehead.

This was not supposed to feel natural, but it did.

“How do I look different?”

“When you’re asleep, you look like a child,” she replied with a smile.

He was supposed to take offense, but he didn’t.

“Our child would have been the most adorable child,” she mused.

That day he faked sick so he could stay in bed and never leave.

“Why don’t you ever cry for me?” she asked him one night. “Robin did.”

“I’m not Hood,” he replied, trying not to appear disturbed.

“I didn’t say you were. I wouldn’t want you to,” she retorted. “But that didn’t answer my question.”

Annoyed, he said, “You know the answer. You’re in my bloody head.”

“But, Guy, what’s in your head isn’t always right,” she remarked innocently, her eyes wide.

“Then I can’t possibly give you what you want now, can I?”

Had he not suffered enough as it was, he wanted to ask. Now she wanted him to cry for her too?

“I don’t want you to cry for me. I just want to know why you don’t,” she clarified.

“Get out of my head!” he jumped up and stormed out of the room.

The Sheriff was having one of those days where nothing could entertain him except the hanging of the poor. And Guy was having one of those days where she wouldn’t let him be unless he came up with something to divert his boss’ mind.

But when nothing could be done, there was no choice left other than to kill the Sheriff. But he would never do it, could not do it, as he had proved again and again.

“He is not your father, you know. Killing him wouldn’t be so bad,” she told him.

“I am a lot of things, Marian, but what I am not is disloyal,” he said.

“Ha! You and your treason to England.”

“I was never loyal to England. The only people I have been loyal to are the Sheriff and you.”

She looked at him, something resembled pity in her eyes, and that was what he would not tolerate. Not from her. Not from anyone.

“My loyalty has already killed once. I’d kill myself if I let it happen again.”

So the asking stopped, and he was thankful for that. But soon all that was proved meaningless as the Sheriff decided to flee the country when the news of the King’s return reached Nottingham.

“Do not go with him, Guy. Stay and accept the punishment for your crime,” she pleaded as he was frantically packing.

“You cannot make me, Marian. Not this time, not when my life is at stake.”

“But when is it not?” she demanded.

He paused to look at her.

“You know you’re better than this. Stay,” she grabbed him.

“The way you did?” he menaced. “Oh, wait.”

“Stop being a baby. Robin was never the reason you killed me for,” she declared.

They never talked about this, the ‘k’ word, the blasphemy.

“You did not love me, Gisborne,” she stated. “You loved the idea of me, of us.”

His family name had never sounded so sinister.

“Why does it matter now? You’re not here anymore.”

“But I am,” she said, stepped in front of him, “Here,” placing her hand on his chest. “And you know this time I’ll never leave.”

She was right. He knew.

The execution day arrived, and she was by his side when he was taken to the gallows. The sun was shining through cloudless sky, reddening her hair. 

“So this is what you wanted.” He began to realize. “Revenge.”

“No.” She shook her head, taking his hand in hers as they climbed the steps. “I wanted to give you what you have given me.”

“What? Death?” He looked at the rope above them.

“No.” She shook her head, caressing his face, and kissed him. “Freedom.”

 

 

_finis_


End file.
